


you'll always be my day one

by skyestiel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BOM Leader Keith, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Future Fic, Garrison Professor Lance, M/M, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, attempted humor, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 07:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18361001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyestiel/pseuds/skyestiel
Summary: “Everything,” Keith repeats out loud. “It’s only been a few years—”“—five years—”“—but I feel like we’ve changed a lot since the last time we talked.”Lance hums softly under his breath. “Almost like we’re meeting for the first time all over again.”Or: A story of firsts for@monthlyklance’s April challenge!





	1. week 1: first meeting & touch

**Author's Note:**

> hello, hello! it feels like it's been ages since i last wrote klance (even though i posted something at the end of december oops) and i missed these boys. i'll be posting four parts in this series for [@monthlyklance](https://twitter.com/monthlyklance)'s april prompts! i'm actually super excited about this little story, and i made myself... _really_ emotional while writing the first chap.
> 
> the fic title is from "day 1◑" by honne which can be found [here!!!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hWOB5QYcmh0) definitely give it a listen and i hope you enjoy <333

 

Keith didn’t know what to expect when he set foot on Coran’s new ship.

A kitchen stocked with vats of food goo? Potentially. An Altean pool to further stump Keith with its gravity-defying design? Probably. A collection of sentient robotic lions waiting for the next generation of Paladins? Unlikely, but who’s to say when it comes to Coran.

So far, Keith has had plenty of opportunities to explore. Coran sent out the call two days ago regarding a “top secret emergency mission,” and Keith arrived within a matter of hours. Since then, he's wandered the corridors, eaten a sampling of Hunk’s improved food goo, sparred with a handful of training bots, and fell asleep watching the stars rather than lying in his new bed. All the while waiting for the emotional impact of the situation to set in.

But now that he stands in the replacement hangar, he’ll admit he’s feeling…something. What exactly that “something” is, well, he hasn’t quite decided.

Before Keith returns to his bedroom, a room he refuses to compare to his old one, he catches the echo of what can only be Coran’s voice.

“...And you might be surprised to learn this hangar is even larger than the one from the original ship!”

Curious, Keith studies the empty corners of the hangar.  _ Who the hell is Coran talking to?  _ He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the hull of his transport ship.  _ Isn’t that the exact same spiel he gave me when I first got here? _

With a deafening hiss, the massive portal at the entrance of the hangar opens. In its place stands Coran and a man dressed in uniform. Under the faint blue light, the stranger’s outfit appears to be varying shades of gray. With gold cuff-links and multi-colored pins, a head of close-cropped, curly brown hair and—

Keith’s breath catches in his throat. “No,” he exhales, already shaking his head. “No, no, there’s no way.”

“Wow, you were right.” The man lets his gaze wander, tilting his head back to study the ceiling. “This place is  _ massive.  _ It has to be bigger than the one we kept the lions in! Is this for all those diplomats you and Allura have visit the…ship…now. Uh.”

Coran continues trotting forward, unperturbed, but the accompanying stranger freezes in his tracks. No, not a stranger. There’s nothing strange about him aside from the drastic changes in his appearance. The two or three inches of extra height and stubble framing his jawline. The assortment of pins decorating his uniform. Differences—so many differences—and yet Keith would recognize that face, that  _ voice _ , anywhere.

It’s been so long. Too long, if you ask Keith. Years, right? At least three, potentially five. Keith loses track of time when he’s constantly travelling.

“Keith?”

The walls reverberate with the sound of his name.  _ What do I do?  _ Keith swallows and tugs at the collar of his Blade suit.  _ Just walk over there? Say hi? Holy shit, when did his voice get so  _ deep?

“Yeah,” Keith replies dumbly. But his legs don’t seem to want to, um, move. So, it looks like Keith is going to stay here.  _ Okay then _ .

Even from this distance, Keith has no trouble making out Lance’s thousand-watt smile. It’s a bit crooked but in the most endearing way. Those long, long legs help him cross the hangar in record time. Within seconds, he’s there in front of Keith, close enough to reach out and  _ touch _ .

“This is—oh my God, okay.” Lance’s mouth moves a mile-a-minute.  _ Typical Lance.  _ Keith barely stifles a grin. “You’re real, right? Not like a clone or hologram or…?”

“I’m real,” Keith chuckles, “At least the last time I checked.”

“Coran didn’t mention you’d be here, so, you know, I wasn’t  _ expecting— _ ” Lance pauses mid-rant. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but I had no idea.”

Keith offers a weak smile, in a poor attempt at mirroring Lance’s. “He didn’t mention you’d be here either. If that makes you feel any better.”

Off in the distance, the distinct buzz of a door shutting cuts through their conversation. Keith and Lance both glance in the direction of the noise and exchange a laugh.

“Not much has changed, huh?” Lance turns back to face Keith. “Well, other than everything.”

“Yeah, you really got…” Keith carefully considers his next words. Big? No, God, that’d be embarrassing. Although it’s better than admitting Lance looks hotter than Keith remembered. Instead, he settles on, “Older.”

Lance guffaws—really and truly  _ guffaws _ —like it’s the last word he expected to come out of Keith’s mouth. “Astute observation there, my man. I was thinking the same thing.”

Keith bristles. “What?”

“Come on,  _ that  _ was your first thought when I walked in? ‘Gee, he looks older!’”

“Says the guy who called me, oh, what was it again? Bigger, cooler, more grizzled…”

“Hey, I—that was an accurate description!” Lance’s cheeks redden, the color quickly progressing to his neck. “All true at the time!”

Keith isn’t sure what possesses him to push the boundary. When it comes to the two of them, there’s usually a clear line between “friendly banter” and “straight-up flirting.” For some reason, today feels like the perfect day to straddle that line.

“Are you saying it isn’t true anymore?” Keith simpers. “Because technically I’m even older now.”

Lance furrows his brows. His gaze strays downward, past Keith’s shoulders and chest, his waist, down to the arches of his feet. The motion happens in an instant, but Lance’s stare, his intense concentration, burns every inch of skin in its path. Regardless of how much Keith’s suit hides, the material is awfully form-fitting.

“Yeah…Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Lance eventually mumbles. “It’s still true.”

_ You colossal  _ _dumbass_ , Keith scolds himself. What the hell is he doing? He hasn’t seen Lance in years, and he’s  _ hitting  _ on him?

In his defense, though, Lance seems more than happy to go along with the whole charade.

Lance blows out an exhale with an audible  _ woosh _ . Ducking his head, he takes a couple slow, over-exaggerated steps until he’s beside Keith. His eyes stray to the ground as he leans against the Marmoran ship. Even in his uniform— _ that of a Galaxy Garrison professor,  _ Keith finally recognizes—he looks like he did when they were still Paladins. Effortlessly casual, at peace here in the depths of space. Like he belonged, regardless of how much he missed his home on Earth. 

Before Keith has the chance to reconsider his words, he blurts, “This is so weird.”

“What is?” Lance blinks, taken aback. “This conversation or being on the ship again?”

Definitely this conversation. The fact the rest of the team is nowhere in sight. The fact Keith is engaging in panic-induced flirting with his former right-hand man. The fact every ounce of attraction he used to feel towards Lance has come bubbling to the surface.  _ Everything _ .

“Everything,” Keith repeats out loud. “It’s only been a few years—”

“—five years—”

“—but I feel like we’ve changed a lot since the last time we talked.”

Lance hums softly under his breath. “Almost like we’re meeting for the first time all over again.”

“Yeah!” Keith chimes then clears his throat. “Yes, exactly.”

A hazy image of a Garrison classroom flashes before Keith’s eyes. He remembers standing in front of relative strangers and being forced to introduce himself. He remembers how much he wished he could sit back down or sink through the floor, wished he could lie about where he came from. He remembers a starry-eyed boy near the front who offered the only welcoming smile in the entire crowd.

“This is definitely different from the first time we met,” Lance snickers. “I always hated how teachers made us talk about ourselves in front of the class. As if the students weren’t all gonna sit back and judge everyone because teenagers are monsters.”

“Did you judge me?”

“Only for the mullet.” Lance lifts his arm and stops when his hand is level with Keith’s neck. Puffs of warm breath tickle Keith’s cheeks like the teasing caress of a breeze. Lance’s fingers unfold, stretching until they lightly brush the side of Keith's throat. Then, just as quickly as they make contact, the touch disappears. “That’s all,” Lance finishes in a hoarse whisper.

Keith forces his jaw to stay shut.  _ Was Lance about to…? _

Before they went their separate ways, Lance got into the habit of casually touching Keith at any opportune moment. He often slung his arm across Keith’s shoulders when they ambled through the halls of the castleship. And on most occasions when they sat together on the couch, their thighs touching, during team gatherings. Lance’s fingertips sometimes drew idle patterns on Keith’s bicep as he chatted with the rest of the Paladins.

The memories immediately remind Keith of that sense of longing. Yearning for Lance to keep touching him, to keep acting like it’s the most natural progression for them.

“So, should we, uh,” Lance continues rambling when Keith remains speechless. “Should we…  go find Coran? I figure we need to be briefed on whatever this oh-so-special mission is. You know, before he and Allura unleash us on the universe again.”

Somehow Keith finds his voice. “Sure.” 

_ No, I’d rather stay here and talk longer.  _

“We probably should.” 

_ I’d rather go watch a ridiculous Altean drama on the holo-projector or sit on one of our beds doing nothing or really  _ anything  _ involving just the two of us because I’ve missed you so damn  _ much _. _

When they finally leave, Keith finds himself drawn to Lance’s side. He tries his best to remain subtle as he shifts closer and closer with every stride.

And, by the time they reach the control room, he takes some small comfort in the fact he and Lance’s fingers almost brushed as they walked.   

  
  



	2. week 2: first date & laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The server presents a translucent tablet bearing an image of what Lance can only assume is the special. “Although it is a sizable portion and better suited for...” Their close-set eyes flick between Keith and Lance. “Sharing.”
> 
> Lance stares at the picture. His lashes flutter, gradually processing the server’s comment. _Suited for sharing._ Wait, so they’re suggesting Lance share the dish with Keith? Weird. It’s almost like—
> 
> Oh. _Oh_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, keeping up with an update schedule as planned? it's more likely thank you think. BUT ANYWAY i'm absolutely thrilled with all the feedback i got on the first chapter!!! i'm soooo glad everyone seemed to enjoy it!! now here i am, back with part 2. yes, they're still hopeless dorks pining for each other. and, yes, we still love them. i hope yall continue to enjoy this story, and thanks for sticking with me~

 

To say Lance feels out of place would be the understatement of the century.

When Keith suggested eating at his “usual haunt,” a restaurant on an asteroid, Lance figured they were headed to a bar. Or maybe a tavern. The sort of place you'd expect to see in  _ Cowboy Bebop  _ or  _ Star Wars. _

But the Tilteow Willow, as Keith called it? Yeah, definitely not a “tavern.” Although there's no lack for alcohol from what Lance can tell. He’s seen plenty of drinks go by on floating trays—exquisite glasses brimming with glowing, neon-colored liquids.

Lance practically vibrates with nervous energy. Neither he nor Keith have said more than a couple words since they sat at one of the many glistening white tables.

“So, uh,” Lance blurts, “you come here often?”

Keith chokes on his drink, a magenta-tinted beverage frothing with suspiciously large bubbles. “Wh—Huh?”

Confused, Lance mulls over his words. Only to realize how potentially…suggestive they might sound in this context. He can easily picture the same question,  _ you come here often _ , coming from the mouth of some smarmy douchebag at a club.  _ Oops _ .

Lance pulls his gaze away from the pair of Alteans seated behind Keith. “Uh, I mean—I just didn’t expect you to bring us somewhere so…well…”

The restaurant's interior is bathed in indigo. Light emanates from the ceiling, columns, and strobes along the circular perimeter. Panes of thick glass make up most of the wall space, offering a breathtaking view of the gas giant the restaurant orbits. A bartender attends to guests in the epicenter of the room, hovering over shelves lined with countless twinkling bottles. The lavender stool cushions surrounding the bar levitate and sink to accommodate customers who sit there.

And every table seems to be occupied by couples who are disgustingly _smitten_. Aliens shaped like trees, gazingly loving into each other’s many pairs of eyes over their food. Stretchy sapients holding hands between bites, playing footsie under the table. Robots with literal _heart eyes,_ or at least hearts flickering on the screens they use to see.

At Keith’s blank expression, Lance drawls, “You know, somewhere so…”

“Fancy?” Keith supplies, poking at the questionable appetizer they ordered. Spindly legs, much like those of a spider, poke out from beneath a bed of leaves, noodles, and squishy beads.

_ Romantic,  _ Lance wants to say. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Keith chose this restaurant on purpose. This doesn’t feel like a place you’d visit for a greasy burger and fries after a grueling mission. Instead, it seems like a restaurant Kolivan and Krolia would take Keith to reward him for his hard work or celebrate a Blade member’s birthday.

You know, something along those lines.

“Yeah, fancy,” Lance lies smoothly. “I guess I'm dressed for the occasion at least. Shiro swears up and down that the Garrison uniform can make anyone look classy. Now, your outfit, on the other hand...I’m not so sure.”

Keith scoffs. “Hey, Kolivan says the same thing about our suits! I’ve had to go to diplomatic meetings in this exact outfit. Just like Allura and Coran do.”

“I highly doubt that. Unless Big Purple’s  _ lying  _ to you. I mean, c’mon, Keith, the suit is—” Lance cuts himself off, realizing the dangerous path that train of thought could lead down. “Anyway, that reminds me, what the hell  _ was  _ that?”

“What was what?” Keith shifts his attention to the pink fronds on their shared plate.

“The mission! I mean, I’m not saying Coran would lie to us, but—”

“What would you two care to try this evening?” a sudden voice interjects, and Lance topples off his chair. “Sir, are you alright?”

Cheeks burning, Lance hurriedly straightens up in his seat and brushes invisible crumbs off his pants. Keith merely watches from his seat with this—this downright  _ wicked  _ smirk tugging at his lips. Of all people to embarrass himself in front of, it had to be Keith. This older, wiser Keith with longer hair coiled into a braid. This Keith with that same damned scar Lance has ached to touch for years.

When Lance saw Keith slouched against his sleek gray ship, squeezed into that frankly  _ criminal  _ spandex suit, he vowed to make up for lost time. To show Keith how he’d changed, for the better, in the time they spent apart. How he’d grown.

Yet here he is: floundering like an idiot because the waiter managed to sneak up on them.

“I’m, uh. I’m fine,” Lance insists once he’s situated. He flashes their server a guilty smile and studies them. Their neatly coiffed head of forest green hair balances out their shiny, patchwork bodysuit. “I’ll have...”

“The special tonight is boiled Proudent on a crisp bed of Leolee flowers.” The server presents a translucent tablet bearing an image of what Lance can only assume is the special. “Although it is a sizable portion and better suited for...” Their close-set eyes flick between Keith and Lance. “Sharing.”

Lance stares at the picture. His lashes flutter, gradually processing the server’s comment.  _ Suited for sharing _ . Wait, so they’re suggesting Lance share the dish with Keith? Weird. It’s almost like—

Oh.  _ Oh _ .

“Well, I, um,” Lance babbles, fighting to untangle his tongue. “Keith, what do you…?”

Keith doesn’t reply right away, which immediately piques Lance’s interest. He diverts his attention to Keith, only to find he’s sporting a scarlet flush that puts the centerpiece flowers to shame. Which is fascinating for a multitude of reasons. Hell, Lance can’t imagine what his own face must look like.

“We’ll split the special,” Keith mutters, the words falling from his lips in rapid succession. To Lance’s surprise, the server appears to catch every word.

“Excellent choice! I will have the entree ready for you shortly.” Withdrawing the tablet with a flourish, the server slinks away and past the crowd at the bar.

Once they’re out of earshot, silence falls over the table. Heavier than the weight of their reunion, charged with a tension that’s been building for years. More than a decade, if Lance counts his early days at the Galaxy Garrison. He vividly recalls glaring at the top bunk in his dorm, tucked in for the night with thoughts of Keith dancing around inside his head. Only to wake up at 4 a.m. in a cold sweat, forced to confront the reality of their supposed “rivalry.”

Not a rivalry—a  _ crush _ , of all things.

“So, anyway,” Lance croaks, tossing in a laugh to diffuse the tension. “Back to the mission. Didn’t the whole incident with the Honerva sympathizers feel...weird to you? I don't know, almost like it was staged?”

Keith breaks his intense staring contest with the appetizer. “I’m not sure, it did seem a little too easy, now that you mention it. Like the soldiers weren’t even trying to put up a fight.”

“Exactly, that’s what I was thinking!” Lance picks up his napkin and swooshes it at Keith. “But it had to be real, right? For Allura and Coran to get in touch with us.”

He and Keith lapse into the closest thing to a normal conversation they’ve had since their impromptu reunion. Unfortunately, they can’t seem to come to a conclusion about Coran and Allura’s “top secret mission.” But, on the bright side, Lance learns that Keith mastered several combat techniques during his time away. He also taught Kosmo a few new tricks, including "play dead," and now has a loose grasp of the Galra alphabet.  _ The cute bastard. _

But Lance’s stupid brain fixates on one particularly juicy piece of information.

“Really?” Lance takes a sip of his water and winces at the briny aftertaste. “No one?”

“No one,” Keith reiterates. The brilliant red had faded from his cheeks but now returns with a vengeance. “I’ve been pretty busy, and it’s tough to…to date someone when you’re traveling all the time.”

A maelstrom of confusing emotions bursts inside Lance’s chest. “Right, right. Yeah, I get that.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

Keith lifts his glass to his mouth, peering over the rim at Lance. “Yeah, you. Have you been seeing anyone?”

“No, no. I’ve been—”

“Your main course,” the server singsongs, emerging out of the fucking blue. Because apparently this restaurant hires ninjas with  _ advanced stealth training.  _ “I certainly hope you both enjoy. Guests always rave about our couple’s special!”

Ah, yes.  _ And the truth will set you free _ .

“ _ The couple’s special _ —” Keith spits the words out as if he’s been socked in the gut. Then blanches, mortified he couldn’t hold his tongue. “Sorry, I—I’m sure we will. Thank you.”

The server scuttles off again, and Lance can’t hold back any longer. “Okay, maybe it's just me, but this totally feels like an awkward first date.”

For a horrible instant, Keith doesn’t react at all, other than his skin paling. Lance considers cutting out his tongue in rash defiance. Or fleeing the scene. There’s no way he’s going to live this down if Keith secretly hates him. Even if he tolerates Lance as a friend, salvaging the situation will be uncomfortable. And the evening will spiral into the worst of Lance’s short, sad life.

Before he can take it back—or disintegrate into thin air like he’d prefer—Keith breaks out into genuine, raucous laughter.  

He bends at the waist, strands of hair brushing the “food” the server set between them. The plates, glasses, and silverware all rattle with the force of his legs shaking. Meanwhile, Lance coughs out a few weak chuckles of his own, praying they’re at least somewhat convincing.

“Oh my God,” Keith cackles, “You’re—you’re right. Can you imagine?”

Beneath the table, Lance’s hands clench into fists in his lap. “I know, right? Us, dating?”

_ I’d give anything to date you. _

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!”

_ We’d make so much sense together. Like a mind-blowing amount of sense. We’d go on reckless adventures and call them “dates,” comfort each other whenever traumatizing war memories would rear their ugly heads. _

Keith’s expression contorts into something indescribable. His lips hardly move as he adds, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is crazy.”

Lance worries at his bottom lip. His fists unfurl like the wary petals of blossoming flowers. Summoning every ounce of courage he has, Lance reaches for the nearest utensil and spears a chunk of meat.

For the rest of the night, he focuses on their dinner. And, with great effort, drags his thoughts away from what it would feel like to call this their first date—and mean it.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhhhhh boy these two...
> 
> please drop a kudo and/or comment if you enjoyed this chapter! or let me know on any of these accounts: **[tumblr](http://tobiologist.tumblr.com/), [twitter](https://twitter.com/tobiologist), [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/tobiologist/)** or **[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/tobiologist)**!!!!
> 
> be on the lookout for a new chapter next friday!


	3. week 3: first kiss & passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ _Lance._ ”
> 
> “That’s the name, don’t wear it ou—”
> 
> “What are you doing?” Keith juts out his chin but then releases a nervous laugh. “This almost feels like you’re trying to… to stall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE GO!!! this chapter was challenging to write but also a lot of fun. i'm blown away by everyone's support and feedback! writing klance worries me anymore considering what happened with canon vld and the fact it's over now... BUT ANYWAY! thanks to [brigid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstinspace/pseuds/angstinspace) and [miranda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/221bdisneystreet) for reading this over for me!! you're the best. and i hope everyone enjoys!!!

 

Working with Lance is, to put it quite simply, dangerous.

Whether it be sloshing through rivers of mud as they escape from alien criminals or hiking through the arid dunes of the desert planet Desseria like they’re doing now—Keith enjoys any time he spends with Lance. Far too much.

So, when the call comes in from Coran, their shared world crumbles around Keith. 

“Already?” Lance hooks his gloved fingers over the bandana covering his mouth. “I thought you said it might be a while before either of us could go back home?”

“Ah, it would appear I was misinformed,” Coran trills. Lance’s earpiece glows softly with every word out of Coran’s mouth. “Allura got in touch with me this morning. You boys have done some fine work! Most of the suspected terrorists are being debriefed now.”

Keith slowly comes to a stop beside Lance. His heart beats an angry rhythm inside his chest, protesting against Coran’s “good” news. The bandana around his own neck suddenly feels more like a noose than a means of keeping sand granules out of his mouth and nostrils. 

With a shaky sigh, Lance leans against the nearest wall. Yellow stains the brick, and flecks of sand fill its crevices. A couple days ago, this building had served as a pit stop. Trekking through the desert was exhausting, and the promise of water and a meal had dragged both of them through the entrance.

Now—now this structure serves as nothing more than a support. The only thing keeping Keith from collapsing to the ground and pounding his fists into the dirt out of frustration. 

Lance’s response comes out with a wobble. “Well, okay, thanks for letting us know, Coran. Do you want Keith to bring me back to the ship so you can take me home or…?”

“That sounds perfect! I will see you shortly, then?”

“Yup,” Lance drawls, popping the ‘p.’ “Keith’s ship isn’t far from here.”

Keith studies his hands as Coran and Lance exchange goodbyes. Brown flecks of mud are caked underneath his fingernails. He’s hardly had a moment to clean them since he started these missions with Lance. Busy, but not in the way he’s used to. After returning from Blade missions, he usually found that he felt empty. Unfulfilled. Like there was something else he wanted— _ needed _ .  

“We better get going,” Lance eventually groans, breaking the silence. “I wouldn’t want to keep the furries waiting.”

Keith can’t help the snort he lets slip. “Seriously, Lance? That joke is  _ ancient _ .”

“But no less funny. Don’t hate me because I’m right. We both know that if your purple buddies made a visit to Earth, at least a couple people would want a Galra fursona.”

“God, stop talking, I’m coming.” Keith pushes off the wall, falling into step beside Lance. “The real question here is when will you realize your jokes aren’t funny?”

“Harsh,” Lance snickers. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to take a detour, but now…”

Keith’s eyes flick to the pair of goggles affixed to Lance’s head, a pair he knows were chosen for purely aesthetic reasons. “A detour?”

“You know, get in a little sightseeing before we take off.”

“Now, though?” Keith raises a brow. “I thought you told Coran we’d be back ‘shortly’?”

The street narrows significantly here until it practically becomes an alley. Clothes, towels, and rugs hang from the ropes strung between the buildings on each side. Keith peeks up at them as they pass underneath. His gaze is inexplicably drawn back to Lance when he whistles lowly. “We haven’t had the chance to act like tourists, what with these ‘important missions’ Coran has sent us on.”

“The ones we’re convinced were staged.”

“The very same ones.” Lance ducks under a floor rug, crimson fringed with gold. “But, fake or not, they kept us busy.”

Keith can’t stop the thought as it enters his head.  _ Did Coran create these situations just so Lance and I would be forced to work together again? _

Baggy trousers nearly nail Keith in the face as he ducks into the light of the village’s main square. He shakes his head, hoping to free himself of such a  _ batshit crazy  _ idea, but it’s a fruitless effort. It’s too late; the seed has been planted. 

“Okay, let’s circle around this way,” Lance interrupts Keith’s minor panic. He gestures in the direction of several small shops clustered together. 

Keith stops in his tracks and points in the opposite direction, where his ship gleams in the brutal midday sun. “Lance, the ship is right over there.”

When Keith refuses to take another step forward, Lance jerks to a halt. He turns with a huff of frustration. “Yeah, I’m aware.”

“And isn’t that where we’re supposed to be headed?”

“Detour, remember?”

_ Oh _ , Keith remembers. He narrows his eyes at Lance and crosses his arms over his chest. Which is certainly more difficult in the stuffy layers of cotton and burlap than it’s ever been in red faux leather or spandex. 

“What, you really don’t wanna walk around for a bit?”

“Lance.”

“What?”

“ _ Lance _ .”

“That’s the name, don’t wear it ou—”

“What are you doing?” Keith juts out his chin but then releases a nervous laugh. “This almost feels like you’re trying to… to stall.”

For a tense moment, Lance remains silent. He quickly lowers his head, staring down at his boots as he kicks at rocks and stray pebbles. “What if I am?”

Confused, Keith leans closer. “What—what’d you just say?”

Lance straightens up immediately. His eyes sparkle with a fiery intensity Keith hasn’t seen in  _ years _ . Confidently, he retraces his steps until he’s directly in front of Keith. He’s only a couple inches taller after his miraculous early 20’s growth spurt. At this proximity, each shuddering breath he exhales causes Keith’s bangs to flutter against his forehead.

“I said, ‘What if I am?’” Lance repeats, much firmer than before. “Trying to stall, that is.”

For the first time since they’ve been reunited, Keith finds that he’s speechless. He grapples for any semblance of a response but comes up empty-handed. The usual teasing tone Keith has grown so used to has disappeared completely, replaced by an achingly serious rasp. 

“I know that—that we’ve been tiptoeing around each other ever since Coran brought us together again. And I guess technically it’s the smart thing to do, being careful. But I’m  _ sick  _ of it.”

Keith licks his lips and instantly draws Lance’s attention to the motion. 

“This whole time we’ve been taking down these”—he crooks his fingers in air quotations— “‘criminals’ and ‘terrorists’ for Coran, I can tell you’ve been giving me a wide berth. And it feels wrong, you know?”

Keith knows. He  _ definitely  _ knows.

“I miss how easy it was for us to… God, it probably sounds nuts, but I miss being close to you.” Lance pauses. “Like when we used to snuggle up on the couch or when we used to kick ass in the training room, our backs pressed up against each other while we cut down gladiators.”

_ I do, too _ , Keith wants to scream.  _ I miss it so  _ much. 

Then, Lance’s rambling appears to take on a mind of its own. “You know, I remember when I was at the Garrison. Fourteen years old, desperate to have my first kiss. Because that was  _ the  _ thing with teenaged boys. You were a dork or a loser or whatever if you hadn’t kissed anyone before the end of your first year in the program.”

Keith traces Lance’s features with his gaze as he speaks. He’s captivated by the shifting muscle and bone, the swell of his Adam’s apple. And now that the subject of kissing has been brought up, it’s all he can focus on. What it’d be like to close the scant few inches between them and press his lips to the soft column of Lance’s throat. 

“And eventually I did kiss someone. Her name was Stacy,” Lance recounts with a tiny smile. “It was fine, but I’d been hoping for fireworks. Because I was a teenager, after all. Then for the next few years, I just—I chased after some movie romance that didn’t exist.”

Lance quietly studies Keith’s expression, lingering on his slightly parted lips. A tremor of reckless anticipation trickles down Keith’s spine. Without looking away, Lance lifts his hand as he’d done several days ago in the ship hangar. Except he doesn’t draw back. Instead, he gently traces his thumb across Keith’s chin, along the curve of his jaw.  

“What if,” Keith finds himself blurting after a gasp falls from his mouth, “you could redo it?”

Lance stills, his fingertips pressed against Keith’s skin. “Redo it?”

“You said… when you walked into the hangar, we were standing there talking and you mentioned something about how it felt like we were meeting for the first time all over again.”

“Right…” Lance trails off, his gaze darting between Keith’s eyes and lips. “I did say that.”

“Yeah, and I mean—what’s so different about a first kiss?” Keith’s self-control decides to take the most inconvenient vacation ever. Against his better judgement, he lifts his arms and tucks his fingers over Lance’s shoulders, reveling in their muscular weight. “First meeting, first kiss. They’re both just firsts because we decided to label them that way.”

Lance hums with uncertainty. “I don’t know if that’s true, but I like the way you think.”

The tiny, insistent voice in Keith’s subconscious begs him to  _ get to the damn point already  _ before Lance has second thoughts. “So, let’s do that. Let’s just forget that other kiss happened and find a way to create a better first kiss. For you.”

“I probably shouldn’t just  _ forget  _ it happened,” Lance chuckles lowly, but Keith doesn’t miss the way he swallows, the way sweat gathers on his forehead. “But I think I understand your logic.”

“You’re scared.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I—I don’t know what any of this means,” Keith confesses. “All these years, I couldn’t figure it out. Whatever it is that our relationship has become. And now, instead of trying to piece everything together because you’re right here  _ in front of me _ —”

Lance shifts his focus to the swell of Keith’s lower lip. Lazily, he strokes his thumb over lightly chapped skin like he has all the time in the world. 

“—All I can think about is—is kissing you. And I know it’s insane and, honestly, the whole thing is driving  _ me  _ insane.”

Lance’s eyes widen, genuinely surprised. “Wh—kissing me? Seriously?”

To Keith’s astonishment, Lance’s shoulders go lax under his touch. He can practically feel the tension seeping out of Lance’s body, as if a few simple words were enough to chase his greatest fears away. “I… well…”

“Uh, yes, do that. Let’s go ahead and do that then,” Lance stammers, and the featherlight brush of his teasing fingertips continues.

And then the press of Lance’s thumb is replaced by something softer.      

Keith hardly has the opportunity to appreciate the press of Lance’s lips against his own before he’s pulling back. Just an inch, probably less. And yet Keith finds himself chasing after.

“Yeah,” Lance murmurs, speaking the words directly against Keith’s parted lips. “Yeah, that’s much better.”

Keith hums his own agreement before snaking his arms around Lance’s neck, drawing him in as close as humanly possible. He buries his fingers in thick, chocolate brown curls. Lance eases into the kiss gingerly like he can’t believe his luck. And, admittedly, Keith feels the same.

But he can’t have Lance thinking this isn’t exactly what he wants.

With another pleased hum, Keith tilts his head and readjusts the angle of their next kiss, forcing Lance to chase his lips this time around. 

_ You’re the only person who makes me feel like this.  _

“I’m… counting this…” Keith breathes his thoughts like a desperate plea into the skin of Lance’s jaw. “As my real first kiss, too.”

_ You’re the only one who pulls this intensity out of me, this passion and competitive energy. And I want to tell you how much I care about you, but the size of that love, the sheer magnitude, still scares me. It probably always will. _

They stay pressed together for what feels like an eternity. Keith is the one to finally—albeit reluctantly—break the kiss. How they manage to cross the village square and climb into Keith’s ship remains a mystery, even to this day.

For the duration of their flight back to Coran’s ship, Keith ponders over his position with the Blade. His brain is torn in thousands of conflicting directions as he thinks about the reality of his situation with Lance. 

And how the two of them will handle the  _ longest  _ of long distance relationships if everything goes according to plan.      

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT HAPPENED..........................
> 
> please drop a kudo and/or comment if you enjoyed this chapter! or let me know on any of these accounts: **[tumblr](http://tobiologist.tumblr.com/), [twitter](https://twitter.com/tobiologist), [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/tobiologist/)** or **[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/tobiologist)**!!!!
> 
> the last chapter should be posted next friday!!


	4. week 4: first "i love you" & domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nice of you to finally drop in,” Keith greets him with a smirk. “I was starting to wonder if you forgot about me.”
> 
> Lance stops in front of Keith and gives him a quick once-over. “You know I’d never do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE IT IS!!!! i'm sorry for the delay on this last chapter... i recently accepted a job offer (yay!!) and the paperwork has been keeping me awfully busy. i'm pretty happy with this story as a whole, considering i tried to limit myself to short weekly updates! a big thank you to [brigid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstinspace) and [noelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenericHero/works) for reading this over for me! and i really do hope everyone enjoys this last part!! thanks for sticking with klance and with me <33

  
  


Lance rouses awake like a zombie rising from the dead. 

A horrendously chipper tune blares from every corner of the room, playing on a loop like a torture device straight from the pits of hell.    
  
“Ten more minutes,” Lance grumbles before turning onto his other side. Seriously, who installed this alarm system? The Devil himself? Sure, the framework has other spectacular functions like picking the perfect mood music for every occasion but—

Lance sits up and tosses his covers aside. “Dismiss alarm!”

The awful noise comes to an abrupt stop. The faint red pulsating from the walls fades and returns to its usual muted shade of cornflower blue. With an aggravated huff, Lance sags back against the mattress and lets his eyes flutter closed. If it weren’t for today’s… special occasion, he’d totally set a new alarm and sleep for another thirty minutes.

“Okay, Lance, get up and get ready. You can do this,” he attempts to encourage himself. He’s glad Keith has never heard his little morning pep talks. Although, Keith is the same person who wakes up at the crack of dawn to train.

Lance eventually convinces himself to climb out of bed. A neat row of Garrison uniforms hang inside his closet, alongside an army green jacket he refuses to dispose of. Even if the arms fit snugger than they used to, even if the hem falls higher up on his torso than when he was a teenager—Lance could never bear to trash it. Or the memories that cling to every fiber. 

_ Anyway.  _ Lance reaches in and snags a change of clothes. After discarding his lion pajamas—the set Allura gave him as a gift because she’s the best—he slips into his uniform and assumes position in front of the mirror. 

He goes through his usual routine to ensure that, you know, he hasn’t lost his touch. Straight-spined soldier pose? Check. Flirtatious wink? Check. Finger guns? Checkity check. 

“Still got it,” Lance compliments his reflection. He’s sure his mirrored double wishes it could roll its eyes back at him. 

The allure of banana pancakes, crisp bacon strips and caramel-flavored coffee beckon Lance into the dining hall for breakfast. Years of practice have allowed him to master the art of balancing his tray in one hand as he swipes his Garrison ID with the other. A charming robotic voice answers, “Have a lovely meal, Lance McClain.”

“Why, thank you.” Lance pats the counter before beginning his quest for an empty spot.

A table near the entrance has a space open next to another professor. Eric, Lance thinks? He makes it a point to mingle with all his co-workers, but some stand out more than others.

Eric-or-maybe-not-Eric pauses in his oatmeal shoveling and stares at Lance. His blond hair looks frazzled, like he didn’t have the chance to hit the hair gel after he rolled out of bed. To his credit, not a pin or button on his uniform is out of place. 

“McClain, hey.” Eric motions at Lance with his spoon. “I’ve heard you’ve got a guest speaker today.”

Lance simpers and snatches a piece of bacon off his plate. “Sure do.”

“Isn’t it...?”

“Yep, it is,” Lance singsongs. The bacon strip snaps in half with a satisfying  _ crack _ . “It should be, uh. Interesting.”

“I bet. Although…” Eric pushes back his sleeve, squinting at the face of his watch. “Hasn’t he already started his lecture? I thought your class began, like, thirty minutes ago.”

_ Crack _ . Lance freezes with the bacon half-hanging out of his mouth, blinking dumbly at Eric. “Wh—oh my God. I can’t believe I—” 

Immediately, Lance jumps to his feet. He flashes a forlorn look at the full meal he’s leaving behind. Eric snickers, “I’ll watch it for you, man. I’m sure the cooks will understand if they have to heat your breakfast up for you.”

_ So, apparently Lance will no longer neglect Maybe-Eric and his big ass heart.  _ “Thank you so much.”

It’s a surprise Lance doesn’t trample half the Garrison population fleeing the dining hall. Luckily, most cadets and their instructors are already in class. He swerves around several corners, barrels down hallway after hallway, past the training room and simulation wing, before coming to a jerking halt in front of his classroom. 

From outside, Lance catches the unmistakable tone of the guest speaker addressing his students.  _ I hope I won’t get in trouble for this _ . 

Lance slowly creeps through the open doorway and looks to the podium. There, pacing in front of a projected image of a fighter-class Garrison ship, stands a familiar figure. 

“Now, I’m not saying that’s a  _ common  _ experience, by any stretch of the imagination,” the speaker explains to the class, who gaze at him like he hung the stars in the sky. “But as a pilot, you have to be prepared for any situation.”

You can tell how much he loves flying from his mannerisms alone. His arms move wildly in an enthusiastic reenactment of his moments in the cockpit. And if he were to grin any wider, Lance fears his face may be permanently stuck that way. In some respects, he’s a closed book, but when it comes to discussing his work as a pilot or Paladin of Voltron, Keith Kogane wears his heart on his sleeve.

Strangely proud, Lance leans against the doorframe. It wouldn’t make sense to interrupt, right? That’d be flat-out  _ rude _ . Keith is clearly in his element.

Keith carries on for another fifteen minutes, talking about his own experience and dishing out advice. These lectures are the only chance Lance gets to see Keith in a Garrison uniform again. It never gets old. Every time, it’s like he’s transported back to the days when he sat where the cadets are now. A young Lance clad in his orange uniform, watching Keith from a distance in the halls, amidst simulation training, and from his seat during lectures. All the while putting up the best possible front to avoid confronting his… well. 

Lance has had a crush on Keith for as long as he can remember, okay?

As the thought crosses Lance’s mind, he notices Keith’s stare shift to the back of the lecture hall. Where Lance has yet to move from his perch. 

_ Uh oh _ .

Rather than interrupt his own lecture or call Lance out for listening creepily from afar, Keith merely smirks. Which is almost  _ more  _ concerning. 

“Well, if no one else has any questions, I guess I’ll go ahead and wrap this up.” Keith turns his attention back to the rows of curious students. “Plus, I think I need to have a chat with your  _ regular  _ professor.”

In Lance’s defense, he’s been a bit  _ distracted  _ lately. Keith’s visits aren’t exactly frequent. At most, he drops in once every couple months. There was actually a period when Lance spent only one week with Keith in the torturous span of six months. Heat floods his face when Keith meets his gaze; he’s never going to hear the end of this.

The students share a collective chorus of  _ ohhhh’s _ before Keith chuckles and dismisses them. A couple dozen Garrison cadets file out of the room with binders and notebooks tucked under their arms. Several have the gall to wiggle their eyebrows at Lance as they walk by or at least flash him a knowing look.

Once the room is clear, Lance saunters down the main aisle to where Keith waits, arms folded as he poses beside the podium. There’s a smug glint in his eyes, like he belongs there, and  _ Lance  _ is the guest speaker.

“Nice of you to finally drop in,” Keith greets him with a smirk. “I was starting to wonder if you forgot about me.”

Lance stops in front of Keith and gives him a quick once-over. “You know I’d never do that.”

Any of Keith’s other jokes catch against Lance’s lips as he bends to kiss him. He keeps the kiss as chaste as possible—in case a nosy cadet or two were to sneak back in—but can’t help the way he melts against Keith. His hands settle on Keith’s hips and pull him close. Lance won’t waste a single precious second.

He shifts his attention to the apples of Keith’s cheeks, the underside of his jaw and the flushed skin of his throat. Featherlight brushes of his lips that can hardly be considered kisses.

“So,” Keith carries on, unperturbed by Lance, “When are you going to come talk to  _ my  _ recruits?”

“Oh yeah, because of course they wanna hear me talk about Garrison politics and planes that are way less advanced than theirs.”

Keith sighs softly as Lance finally grants him a break. “Well, you can always teach them about… weird human things.”

“Weird human things?” Lance scoffs. “I’m pretty sure you could teach them the exact same stuff without my help.”

“No, I mean weird  _ Lance  _ human things.”

Affronted, Lance puffs out his chest. “Like what?”

“Like sleeping through your alarm—”

“—hey now—”

“—or the plights of burned pancakes—”

“—that was one time!” Lance jabs Keith’s shin half-heartedly with his foot. “You’ve burned them before, too!”

“That’s a lie,” Keith trills. “I never burn my food. Even Hunk said I did a damn good job in the kitchen the last time I was in town.”

“Yeah, but—”

“—Oh, and you could tell my recruits about all the times you’ve accidentally used my toothbrush at night.” 

Lance groans and takes a step back. “You have your—your special Galra  _ night vision _ ! Not all of us are so lucky.”

“Right,” Keith hums, mirth twinkling in his eyes. He cocks his head to the side. “Do any of those qualify as ‘domestic dealbreakers’? You know, like the ones you’ve mentioned in the past?”

Lance is convinced Keith came out of the womb with that sharp tongue and dry sense of humor.

“I don’t know.” Lance taps his chin in mock deep thought. “It’s hard to say…”

Rather than return to kissing like Lance secretly hoped, or even launching into another round of light badgering, Keith’s expression hardens. All soft edges straighten into harsh lines wrought with seriousness. “Really?”

“Uh…” Lance laughs nervously. “What’s up? Your face is doing that, uh.” He gestures helplessly at Keith. “That scary thing.”

Keith doesn’t break. “You might want to figure it out soon.”

_ Okay, what the hell?  _ Lance steps closer, studying Keith warily. “I gotta be honest, you’re freaking me out right now. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just—” Keith hesitates, his serious mask cracking. “I’m staying.”

“Yeah…? You usually do.”

“No, I mean, for—for longer than usual.”

Lance blinks at him. “Oh, uh. How much longer?”

“Well,” Keith drawls, and the beginnings of a smile brighten his face. “Let’s just say I had a talk with Kolivan and Krolia, and they agreed to let me stay here between missions.”

It takes a moment for the news to fully sink in. Lance freezes with his hands hovering by Keith’s sides. Does this mean Keith will actually be living here, on Earth? Maybe even sharing the same bed as Lance until the Blade’s next mission? No—it seems too good to be true. Lance can’t possibly be  _ that  _ fortunate.

“I... Are you going to stay at the Garrison? Like, with  _ me _ ?” Lance gingerly lets his hands settle on Keith’s sides. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you? Which, by the way, is a very cruel joke to play on m—”

Keith quickly lifts his hands to cup Lance’s face. “I’m not pulling your leg, I promise.” 

“You swear on Kosmo?”

“Absolutely.”

“How about your precious knife collection?” 

A shuddering laugh crackles between them. “Yes, Lance, I promise.”

And, just like that, the dam breaks.

Lance wraps his arms around Keith’s waist and lifts him off the ground. A feat that years of combat and weight training have allowed him to pull off quite easily, he might add. He can’t seem to bottle up the steady stream of laughter that comes pouring out. To his chagrin, Keith joins in, albeit with a nervous squeak at the start, clearly caught off guard.

“Lance!” Keith cries breathlessly. He rights himself when Lance plops him on the desk at the front of the lecture hall. “Oh my God, you’re really—”

Lance buries his face in Keith’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his aftershave and body wash. His limbs are helpless to the sudden surge of excitement, specifically his poor arms. Lance steps between Keith’s spread legs and pulls him tight to his chest. Their breathing becomes progressively more in sync the longer they remain wrapped up in each other.

The words tumble out of Lance’s mouth before he can process them. Lips pressed to Keith’s throat, he murmurs in a barely intelligible whisper, “I love you.” His mouth moves to the ticklish underside of Keith’s jaw, behind his ear, his temples. “ _ I love you. _ ”

Neither of them have been brave enough to say the words out loud since they formally began their relationship. Big,  _ scary  _ words. Words that Lance—and Keith—don’t like to carelessly toss around. 

Lance doesn’t expect Keith to follow his lead and say he loves him back. Not quite yet—not with his words. 

The soft pressure of Keith’s arms wrapped around his body speak volumes. 

_ I love you, too.  _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER LIKE THEY DESERVED!!!!
> 
> please drop a kudo and/or comment if you enjoyed this little story! or let me know on any of these accounts: **[tumblr](http://tobiologist.tumblr.com/), [twitter](https://twitter.com/tobiologist), [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/tobiologist/)** or **[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/tobiologist)**!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> ohoho here we go... get ready, folks
> 
> please drop a kudo and/or comment if you enjoyed the first chapter! or let me know on any of these accounts: **[tumblr](http://tobiologist.tumblr.com/), [twitter](https://twitter.com/tobiologist), [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/tobiologist/)** or **[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/tobiologist)**!!!!
> 
> btw my plan is to update this every friday this month so be on the lookout


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